Hey guys, Jack here with a project I really, really should not be starting. But, here I am, starting it like the foolish idiot I am. For those of you who've been reading my stuff for a while, you'll know that OC inserts are my bread and butter. I know that A:TLA has a lot of OC stories, and I do mean a lot, but I haven't found any that went the way I wanted. So this is my attempt to add a little bit of new flavor to an old formula. Hopefully you guys will find it enjoyable.

I do not in any way, shape, or form own Avatar, The Last Airbender.

Glacier National Park, Montana.

Jacob Morgan Wood, Morgan or Morg to his friends, was not someone most people would call heroic. In fact, if you were to ask him, he'd tell you he was probably one of the least heroic people on the planet. Doing things just because they were right wasn't in his nature.

Trotting through the underbrush of the woods was something that he found relaxing. His yearly trip into the mountains of the park was something that he always looked forward to. A chance to get away from the stresses of modern life with social media and school. It was a tradition of sorts, started by his father three years earlier.

He'd been handed a bow, a .357 revolver, a backpack with some supplies, and then sent off with little more then a wish of good luck. 'Carrying on the traditions of the peoples' had been his father's exact words when asked why. Morgan, his mother, and older brother were all members of the Blackfoot tribe, and lived on the reservation that bordered the park to the east. His father, meanwhile, was in immigrant from Ireland.

Morgan resembled his native heritage greatly, with coal black hair and a dark skin tone. He was also tall and well built for his age of sixteen, nearing seventeen years of age. A pair of faded gray cargo pants and brown hiking boots covered his lower body, while a brown t shirt and an olive drab rucksack covered his upper. A quiver full of arrows also rested across his back, safely secured between his body and the backpack.

He didn't resent his father for sending him on these yearly trips. Not like he had that first year, anyway. He'd spent the majority of the time alone, cold, scared, and hungry on the side of a mountain. Before he'd realized that he had the tools and skills to make so it wasn't like that. So rather then wait for the trip to end, he decided to own it, like he had every time since.

The bow was so that he could get food. Deer, elk, and plenty of other creatures provided meat for a couple of meals, and their hides could be used to keep warm when the temperatures plummeted at night. The revolver was for creatures that saw him as their next meal rather then vise versa, and wouldn't be taken down easily by a bow. Bears, mountain lions, wolves, there were all kinds of things in these mountains that wouldn't give a second thought to eating him.

So here he was, heading for his favorite spot. It was a rather large spring fed pond, hidden by the woods and tucked away near some cliffs. The only way to get to it was to follow a small, yet powerful mountain stream that flowed down the mountain from the pond. A small cave in the cliffs made for a good place to set up camp, the spring and stream provided a good water supply, and there was plenty of game to hunt in the woods.

Looking up at the wall of stone before him, Morgan gave himself a small smile. A waterfall fell from the top of the cliff, ending in a rather large pool and a pile of rocks. This was the final leg of his hike before he reached his secret spot. No one else knew about this place. It was his home away from home, a place where he could do whatever he wanted and be himself.

Rather than climb the cliff, Morgan made his way off to his right and began to climb a goat path. It was small and narrow, but you wouldn't have known about it unless you knew it was there. Making his way up the path, the young hunter felt himself getting more and more excited. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could do what he wanted, and not be lugging around all of his gear all the time.

Finally, he reached the top and lay eyes upon the secret pond. Before him, the stream that fed the waterfall flowed fast and strong. It had carved itself it's own path into the solid stone it was flowing through, a testament to the raw power the stream provided. It was also something he would have to jump over. The cave he sought was on the far side of the pond, which meant that either he'd have to waste time trying to hike past cliffs and thick underbrush, or he could clear the stream and make it there in less then half the time.

Morgan wasn't worried in the slightest. He'd made the jump several times before, so it was second nature to him by now. It was as natural as climbing a set of stairs. Except, the stairs in this case were wet, and no one had given out the warning.

He jumped, just like he had a thousand times before, only for his foot to slide out from under him on wet stone when he landed.

Before Morgan could react, he had plummeted straight down into the raging waters below him. Panic set in as he was dragged toward the waterfall by the current. His fingers clawed around him, trying to find something to grab. No such hand hold could be found in the wet stone. He kicked and scratched, doing whatever he could to stop despite the odds being against him.

Then he went over the edge, his arms and legs flailed as he fell face first, and for the first time since the ordeal began he screamed in terror. It did nothing, as the rocks and water at the bottom of the falls raced up to meet him.

And then, darkness.

Morgan's eyes shot open, and his lungs screamed for air. His legs kicked out of instinct, and his hands clawed through the water around him as he fought upward. Just when it seemed as if his lungs would burst, he exploded out of the water, gasping for air as he went. He kicked and thrashed his way forward until he finally felt ground beneath him.

Collapsing onto the shoreline, Morgan panted and groaned. The fall was jarring, and nearly drowning didn't help matters. Overall the entire experience left him drained of energy and seriously considering just passing out right where he was at. Fighting the urge to close his eyes, Morgan pushed himself to his hands and knees and pulled himself out of the water entirely.

What was worse then the exhaustion was the pain. Although it was rapidly fading, Morgan could still feel where his body had hit the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. He could still feel every bone in his body shatter upon impact, the sharp rocks impaling him without mercy or remorse. And it hurt, the worst kind of pain he had ever experienced in his entire life.

Yet, here he was, just as fine as if nothing had ever happened, like some kind of strange day dream. But it wasn't a dream. The fact that he was soaking wet and covered with mud was a testament to that. How? The fall should have killed him. Morgan knew that for a fact. He'd felt the damage, that fall should have killed him, and if not, than his injures should have had him drown because he wouldn't have been able to swim.

For the first time since he had pulled himself from the water, Morgan actually took a moment to study the area around him. It wasn't the area where he had fallen. In fact, there were no waterfalls or cliffs of any kind in sight. He was in the middle of some kind of lowland marsh, surrounded by trees, shallow water, and shrub grass. Pushing himself to his feet, Morgan did a full turn on the spot, looking in all directions to see if he could spot any familiar landmarks.

All he saw was more swamp.

Rather then panic, he took off his rucksack and began to look over his gear. Panic was just opening the door and inviting things to go from bad to worse. Thankfully, all of his stuff seemed to be with him, and had survived the ordeal relatively dry and unharmed. He even drew the revolver from his hip and gave it a quick look over. All the parts were in working order, and all of the bullets in the chambers were dry. Satisfied, he gave the gun a single twirl before returning it to it's holster.

Happy with the state of his gear, Morgan pulled out his compass. It was an engineer compass, black and round with green letters and numbers on a white face. Finding north, he snapped the compass closed again before shouldering the rucksack and setting off. He chose a westerly direction, hoping to find either some sign of civilization or the edge of the marsh by sundown.

Despite giving himself a task to focus on, Morgan's thoughts were anxious and wild. Where was he? Was he dead? Was this heaven or the paradise his grandfather had told him of? He hoped not. A swamp wasn't his idea of heaven or paradise. The logical side of him said that he was obviously not dead, just lost. But he couldn't deny that SOMETHING had happened to him. Be it mystical or otherwise, Morgan didn't know, and it bothered him.

After hours of walking, Morgan finally stepped out of the swamp and onto a road. It was little more then a pair of hard packed dirt tracks carved into the ground, but it was still a road none the less. The land slowly shifted from swamp to hilly forest as the day wore on. By the time that the sun was setting, the hills were turning to mountains, and the faint smell of wet salt was on the breeze.

With orange light of the setting sun, Morgan crested a hill and finally let out a sigh of relief. Below him, situated in a valley by a small river was a village. Although happy to see civilization, the architecture of the place gave him pause. For one, the village had a wall around it, and all of the roofs were structured like traditional buildings in eastern Asia, not western Montana.

Knowing he had little other choice, Morgan set off down the mountainside and entered the village. Overall, the market of the village reminded him of some movies he had seen set in China and Japan. The people were all wearing varying shades of grays, browns, and greens, with some wearing conical rice hats. They eyed him, like he eyed them, with mixture of curiosity and caution. He must have looked just as strange to them as they looked to him.

It didn't take long for Morgan to realize that he had no hope of reading any of the signs in the market. Everything was in Mandarin, or at least he thought it was Mandarin. On a good day, he was lucky if he could tell Chinese and Japanese apart, and today was definitely not a good day.

Locating what he hoped was a general store, based upon the image of a set of scales by the door, Morgan stepped inside and looked around. The place didn't have much; some stacks of grain sacks, a few racks of farming tools, a couple stands of fruit, and a counter with a set of scales on the far end of the room. A woman in a green dress with gray hair was standing behind the counter with her back turned to him as she rearranged some things on a shelf.

Nearby, a young man, not much older then himself with long brown hair and a mustard colored shirt was sweeping the floor. They both turned to regard him as he closed the door behind him. Like the people on the street, they gave him strange looks for his appearance, but didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked, breaking the silence. Morgan let out a sigh of relief he didn't realize that he had been holding. Although the written language may not have been something he could understand, the spoken one was.

"I…don't know," he answered honestly.

"Is there anything you're looking for?" she asked.

"Information, I guess. I got lost out on the road and I have no idea where I'm at," he said.

"You're in Pat To. We're a small mining village, not far from the coast," the young man said. For Morgan, that all but confirmed it. The nearest coastline to his home was about seven or eight hundred miles to the west, in Washington State, and none of this looked like the Seattle area in the slightest. Wherever he was, it was no place he was even remotely familiar with.

"Okay…that's a start, I guess," he said.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Jacob Wood, but everyone just calls me Morgan.''

"That's an odd name. You're definitely not from around here," the young man said.

"Haru!" the woman snapped.

"Sorry."

"My name is Song, and this rude young man is Haru. We'd be happy to give you any help we can, Mr. Wood," the woman said.

"Please, just Morgan would be fine. And thank you, but I don't have any money to pay you back," Morgan replied.

"You a hunter?" the shopkeeper asked, motioning toward the quiver of arrows over his shoulder.

"Yes."

"I'm sure we can work out a deal. Haru, take him to the farm. Its nearly closing time," Song said.

"Yes, mom," the teenager said before motioning for Morgan to follow him.

"And keep your distance from the patrols," she added. Haru simply waved over his shoulder as they went out the shop's door. They walked through the streets of the village, headed toward the small gate that Morgan had passed through when he had come in.

"Why keep away from patrols? Does the local law enforcement have something against hunting?" he asked after a short time.

"Weapons of any kind are frowned upon. They see it as a threat to their occupation," Haru answered.

"And who is they?" Morgan asked.

"The Fire Nation," Haru answered, gesturing to a couple of passing soldiers dressed in red and black armor. Morgan gave them a quick look over before returning his attention to Haru. Now he really had no idea where he was. As far as he knew, there was no place called the Fire Nation. He quickly turned his thoughts back to the current situation. Thinking about the possible answers was something he found a little too frightening to do at the moment.

Haru led them away from the village to a small farm sitting on the mountainside a short distance away. There was the main house, a barn, and a hand pump for a well, and not much else. The sea could be seen from here, though, and it shined like it was made of diamonds under the light of the setting sun. Despite all that was going on, Morgan found the view to be a calming one.

"You'll sleep in the barn tonight. In the morning we'll talk and decide what you should do," Haru said. Morgan gave him a nod of understanding and thanks before heading into the barn. Thankfully they didn't seem to keep animals in here at the moment, so the place didn't smell. Taking his pack and quiver off, Morgan collapsed into a pile of hay. His whole body ached and was flooded with exhaustion from a long day of stress and traveling.

The young man was just barely able to kick off his boots before sleep claimed him.

What followed in the next two weeks could only be described as a never ending roller-coaster ride of emotional chaos for Morgan. Just when he thought he was getting use to his new surroundings, something new would pop up, and he'd be back to square one. It started with the hybrid animals. Combinations of various creatures making up the daily wildlife was something he was able to get use to with a little work.

Then came the bending, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. When he'd seen a firebender threating a shop owner, it took all of his willpower not to run and hide in the woods, or that was the case until he caught Haru earthbending a few hours later. For three days, Morgan hid out in the woods near the farm before finally emerging from the tree line on the fourth morning with a dead catdeer slung over his shoulders.

Seeing Morgan's skills first hand, Song sent the young man on hunting trips from then on as a means of paying his way and pulling his weight. The pelts and whatever meat that didn't make it into the cooking pot was taken to the shop and sold. He found the work to be oddly satisfying, even if his game were strange hybrids.

Morgan finally caught a glimpse of a map about two weeks after his arrival. That finally confirmed what he had been fearing all this time. Wherever he was, it wasn't the same world he had been in. It was likely that he'd never see his home or his family again. This was a revelation that he wasn't quite sure how to take. Crying and wallowing about it would solve nothing. If anything, he had a lot of questions that no one would have answers to. The only thing to do now was keep his head down and pray that the Fire Nation troops didn't take an interest in him. He'd seen how they treated people who got on their bad side, he'd seen how they treated people on their good side. Frankly he wanted nothing to do with the entire situation.

In order to stay away from the soldiers, Morgan spent his time in the woods. Song already had him bagging what game he could in order to feed the three of them, so it wasn't like this was off his beaten path. It kept his skills sharp, preparing him for the day the Fire Nation would come knocking. But it also gave him a lot of alone time.

He considered telling Haru and Song the truth about what had happened to him, but ultimately decided against it. They'd probably think he was insane and kick him to the road, or the nearest Fire Nation patrol. So he stuck with his current story. He came from a small providence called Montana, isolated in the mountains far to the east.

This covered any sort of situation he came across in which he was lacking what should have been common knowledge, which in turn gave him the freedom to ask any questions he wanted without looking like a complete idiot. It also explained the clothing and gear that he had turned up with. Song had been generous enough to give him some old clothing that belonged to Haru's father, so that he wasn't wearing the same shirt and pants all the time, and as thanks for bringing in meat for the table.

It had taken a few days, but Haru and Song finally explained why the man of the house wasn't present. When the Fire Nation had conquered the village five years earlier, Tyro and the other earthbenders in the village had fought back. When they were finally overrun, the Fire Nation had rounded up any earthbenders they could find and shipped them off to a prison somewhere.

It didn't take much for Morgan to put two and two together and realize this was why Haru always practiced his bending in private, or why the mother son duo avoided the occupying troops like the plague. With that in mind, he began to study the soldiers with a much keener eye in an attempt to learn the location of this prison.

As time passed, he learned more and more about the Fire Nation military. Despite having a rather primitive set of armament such as armor, swords, and spears, they maintained a rather strict command structure. Morgan learned how to tell a person's rank based on their uniform, and even if said person was a firebender of not. He learned supply routes, patrol schedules, even when a tax collector was sent out and how often.

Of course, he did all of this while crouched in a bush or a tree with his takedown recurve bow. Watching and following the troops kept up his sneaking skill, and hunting kept up his aim. Ultimately he figured he'd have to move on eventually. After all, there was only so much one could do by hunting catdeer in one area. But he wasn't ready just yet, not until he could at least tell Haru and Song where Tyro was being held. Beyond that he wasn't sure there was anything he could do, by himself anyway.

It was on the morning two weeks to the day after he had arrived in Pat To when a chance presented itself to him, in the form of a young man from the Water Tribe, gathering nuts for his breakfast.

And cut. This is the beginning of my new project. As I said at the start, this is my attempt to add some new flavor into this area of fanfiction. A huge portion of OC stories in ATLA follow the same chess stratagy: OC female ends up in Avatar World or has unique feature, OC female winds up traveling and falling in love with Zuko, Rook takes King side Bishop. So yeah, I'm trying something a little different. Remember to read, review, and let me know what you liked or didn't like, and I'll see you all next time.